The Mother, The Sister, The Son
by DrkVrtx
Summary: You knew it was coming, and one was chosen to provide it...
1. Chapter 1

**Irresistible Invitation**

"...Mother?"

Light poured down from a perfect sky, bathing the figure that descended from on high. Her arms were spread wide, and blessed light seemed to burst from her very pores. Patroklos covered his eyes, unable to bear the intense light any longer, but he heard the whisper of his mother as she came down to him.

"Look, my son", she bid him. Patroklos peeked slowly from between his fingers, his eyes aching from the intensity of the light he had forced himself to glare into. Spots of darkness hung in front of his eyes, dancing sluggishly across his vision. But there she was: his mother.

Her form was quite literally angelic. Wings spread wide from her back, moving slowly through the air without stirring a breath of wind. Golden hair hung down the centre of her back, long, lustrous and twisted into a single, thick braid. Patroklos could not help but stare as it swayed from side to side in a non-existent wind. Heat rose to his cheeks as he finally noticed his mother's manner of dress. Like the goddesses of the greek pantheon, his mother's garb was...sparse. He could not look anywhere without being graced with a view of a curvaceous form, crafted with time and care, formed to perfection.

"Mother..." Patroklos looked down and away, feeling the intense heat rising to his cheeks. His mouth suddenly felt dry, and his throat a little constricted. His chest sang with the music of his heartbeat.

"Mother, is that truly you?"  
>"My dear son, who else could it be?" she said to him kindly, her voice soft and melodic, a soothing tune which calmed him, just a little.<br>"Look at me, my son. It has been too long since I saw your eyes", she bid him.

Steeling himself - a strange thing to have to do, he thought - he lifted his eyes and found his mother's face. A mask of translucent, lilac glass covered her face, but he could just about see her lips. The lips that had kissed him goodnight on the forehead as a child, brushing aside his mop of blond hair. He would wait all day for that moment, when her cool, moist lips would touch his skin and she would whisper softly in his ear, wishing him the sweetest of dreams. Now, her lips were as he remembered them: small, but curved slightly at the corners in a smile that had seemed to persist through all manner of emotions.

"Mother, I have missed you", Patroklos told her, arms falling to his sides and the weight of the blade and shield he wielded in her memory falling to the ground with a clang. Her feet alighted at last upon the ground and she approached with measured footsteps.

"Come, my child", she said with compassion in her voice, her arms welcoming him. He hesitated, stepped forwards, then hesitated again. His emotions were skewed; as he looked upon his mother, he wasn't sure if he would cry or...In the end, he stepped forward into her embrace, practically throwing himself onto her, lest his hesitations get the better of him.

She stood strong, and barely moved as he stumbled onto her. Her arms circled him, one rising to the back of his head and cradling him to her shoulder. Patroklos found himself both at comfort and incredible discomfort. It had been years since he had embraced his mother. Her breasts pushed persistently into his chest, firm yet soft, a combination he couldn't fathom. He had wrapped his arms around her waist, and as she cradled his head against her shoulder, he looked down and blushed furiously as the cloth that girded her loins fluttered in a wind he couldn't feel. Instinctively, his hand moved quickly to cover his mother, but the awkwardness of the situation gave him pause. And then, as he turned his gaze away, her single, golden braid filled his gaze.

She laughed, a beautiful sound that carried through the place he could only describe as 'heaven', and he came to himself when he heard it.

"Just as you always did, my son", she spoke into his ear. He didn't know his face could burn, but so it did.

"You loved my hair as a child", she said softly. "I would lie beside you when I put you to bed, and you would play with it until sleep took you. Do you remember?"

"...I remember", Patroklos croaked, his mouth dry and his tongue thick and heavy.

"I kept it long and straight and perfect for you, my son. I loved to see the joy on your face as you pushed your fingers through it".

"I...I did...I loved your hair, mother..." he said.

"'Loved'?" she echoed him, "surely, you have missed it so, my dear son".

She gently separated their embrace, but she took his hands in her own as they parted. His eyes widened as the mask before her face began to dissolve, carried away on the wings of the wind he had yet to feel. Her eyes shone and her smile was small, but brimming with emotion.

"I have missed your touch, my child. Won't you indulge me?"

"Mother", Patroklos started, looking away, "I am grown, a man now..."

"And as a man", his mother spoke, with a hand turning his face back to her, "you can appreciate your pleasure that much more".

She peeled the gloves off his hands, revealing his calloused digits. She dropped them to ground and he forgot about them immediately. Taking his hands in hers once more - he marvelled at their softness - she smiled and spoke.

"Come, my son. Let us lie in the grass, you always loved the scents of spring".

He did, she remembered everything. She turned him around, and he saw a field of tall grass existed behind him. He breathed the deep, clean scent as his mother lead him into the depths of the grass, trailing his hand through it. A patch of clear space appeared before them, and she smiled warmly as she turned to him. Without another word, she sat, facing away from him, comfortable as she stretched her legs out before her. Slowly, she lifted the feather-decorated headdress that crowned her, placing it neatly beside her. Finally, she reached behind her head to undo the braid.

"No!" Patroklos spoke, a little too loudly, quickly, and fiercely. His mother's hands dropped slowly, she didn't turn to him as she spoke, though her voice was soft.

"Come, my son. You have waited for so long".

Patroklos approached her tentatively, shyly. He lowered himself to his knees behind his mother, and slowly lifted his hands to the blue ribbon tied into the end of her braid. He released he hadn't been breathing when the ribbon eventually came loose in his fingers and drifted to the ground. Starting from the bottom of the braid, Patroklos gently loosened each of the plaits in his mother's hair. He slipped a finger between the plait and then delicately pulled downwards. Her hair was so soft and thick - his skin tingled with warmth and his whole body seemed to come alive even as he kept himself very still.

He reached the final plait at the base of her neck. Her hair flowed freely around his knees, spilling down her back, golden, thick and crying out for his attention. He pulled out the final plait, barely suppressing a groan that he knew not the origin of as his mother shook her hair slowly.

"Oh mother, it's so beautiful..." he said, his thoughts slipping from his mouth.

"Touch it, my son. Run your fingers through it. Breathe its scent. Hold it to your lips, my sweet Patroklos".

"Oh mother..."

His calves ached painfully as he continued to sit on his knees, but he found it more than easy to ignore. His mother's golden hair slid through his fingers; he combed from the base of her neck to the very tips, experiencing a pleasure he could not voice as the texture of her locks ran across his skin, leaving his hands blazing with warmth. He was ever so gentle as he gripped her locks in a fist and lowered his face to them, breathing in deeply the cleanliness of her hair and the scent of the wild grass surrounding them, a combination that he impulsively felt would suffice him for the remainder of his days.

With his right hand, he continued to comb through her wonderful locks. His left continued to gather hair into a lightly curled fist, his nose lowered to it and breathing deeply. Embarrassment warmed him as he eventually lifted the hair to his lips. Higher and higher he went, breathing in his mother and her scent, mingled with the freshness of spring. Reaching the base of her neck once more, he took her hair in both hands, parting it like a curtain to reveal the smooth, cream skin of her nape. He leaned forward, breathing deeply.

"Patroklos", his mother murmured as she felt his warm breath on the back of her neck. "Mother, I'm sorry", he apologized in advance. He was intoxicated, drunk on her scent, hypnotized by the feel of her lustrous hair. He let it fall to hide the curve of her neck, falling in love with its silent, graceful movement. He took it up again in one hand, slowly pushing it to one side, his heart beating furiously as the sight of her slowly exposed nape set him alight. A little clumsily, he leaned forward and left his lips upon her skin for a moment.

"Oh, Patroklos", she murmured, tilting her beautiful head forwards for him, "again, just once more".

He obliged ever so happily, showering her soft skin with light kisses, the scent of her hair and body propelling him to a place where thought mattered little. He found his lips at her ear, lapping at the skin behind and beneath them. He rested a hand on his mother's shoulder to steady himself as his other continued to trail through her hair. She reached upwards and behind herself, resting her hand upon his jaw and guiding his lips. He kissed above her ear, his nose pushed against her hair, filled utterly with its intoxicating scent.

"Patroklos, come to me", she bid him with a heavy voice. "Oh come to me, my sweet son".

She guided him with a hand upon his wrist, and he sat beside her, facing the opposite direction. Lifting her face to the sky, she shook her hair and Patroklos was immediately and completely transfixed by the sight. He reached for his mother before he realised what he was doing, pushing his hands into the depths of her dancing locks as he found purchase at the back of her head. She brought her eyes to his and gazed into his soul. It was inevitable. With his hands at the back of head and entwined in her hair, he pulled her forwards to him.

Their lips met passionately and their kiss was deep and shameless. She moaned into his mouth and Patroklos felt _alive_. His tongue dived into her mouth with an intense hunger that ran through his entire being. Her hair set his hands ablaze and he pressed her into him. She yielded to him as his unbridled passion took control of his actions. With her right hand she reached behind herself and swept her full, flowing locks around to the front of her body; her left worked at Patroklos' clothes, eventually pulling him out from within his breeches. He paused as he came to the realisation of this development, drawing away from the kiss into which he had fallen so deeply.

"Mother - "

"My son, my sweet Patroklos, you are a man now", she said to him, "let me show you true pleasure".

He fell into her gaze, her eyes a purer blue than even the sky above, and alight with passion. But even still...

"Patroklos, it would please me so to see the joy upon your face", she said softly to him, "oh won't you indulge me, my son?"

He was transfixed and silenced by the curtain of hair that he now noticed before him. His mother shook it subtly as she tilted her head severely, placing her face beneath him as she took her hair in hand. He made a sharp intake of breath and his fingers clawed hard into the ground as she introduced him to a whole new world, wrapping him in her thick, long locks and slowly beginning to stroke him.

"Mother, no -" he groaned.

"Kiss me, my son", she bid him.

He was quick to comply. The sounds coming from his throat were alien, he didn't understand them and they scared him. He filled his hand with his mother's hair, supporting her head as they kissed. His idea didn't work too well. His body shuddered as his mother pleasured him and he moaned deeply into her mouth as an intense pressure began to build within his body.

He broke the kiss as a deep groan broke through his weakening restraints. His body was quickly slipping from out of his control, his legs bucking and his arms shaking even as he tried to support his mother's head.

"Mother, I _can't_ _-!_"

She took control smoothly, without breaking the motion pushing him gently onto his back.

"Relax, my sweet Patroklos", she bid him. "Doesn't it feel good?"

"Mother -" his response was cut off by a throaty moan of pleasure. He filled his hands with his mother's hair once more, pulling her down to hide his embarrassment with a kiss. She obliged him for a moment, stroking him more quickly.

"Patroklos", she murmured in his ear, "isn't this wonderful? You and I...reunited".

"Mother", he breathed, his voice strained with impending pleasure, "Mother, I love you".

"My son", she whispered, leaning down to kiss him, "never leave my side. We can live together".

"Mother -"

"Shh", she said softly, drawing him closer to the moment of completion, "say yes, my sweet son, promise me your life. I love you so much, and - "

Patroklos let loose an earthy groan as he peaked, his body tightening up as pleasure flooded his being.

"I want to make you happy, forever".

Patroklos took a long moment to recover himself, his deep breaths punctuating the silence that had settled upon them. He opened his eyes, chest rising and falling, and took his mother's hand between both of his.

"Mother, I will never leave you", he promised with sincerity.

"Good", she replied quietly, brushing sweat-damp locks from his face

"The world has become a terrible place, my son. Let us purge it clean...together".


	2. Chapter 2

**Sin Without Shame**

It was inevitable, really. Even though she now knew the truth, even though she knew the extent to which Tira had manipulated and twisted her life, without her, she was lost. She knew nothing of the world outside of what Tira had convinced her to be the truth. Everything was alien to her. She had never needed to provide for herself, as Tira had given her shelter, food and clothing. She had never at any point since her tenth birthday left their secret abode and returned without the blood of an innocent staining her hands. She had no friends, and outside of Tira, no family. But now...she had a brother.

Patroklos, strong and tall, had taken her from the grip of the malfested, evil woman who had crafted her entire life upon a lie. Her hands were soaked in blood and her soul was a cesspit. When Patroklos had told her the truth - the full truth which swallowed the half truths and subtle lies Tira had filled her mind with - she had pierced the night with a mournful cry and begged Patroklos to right the wrongs she had committed, pressing her sword upon him. But he had fallen to his knees with her, gathering her to him and through his own tears telling her that he had committed his own sins. They were equal, in all things.

It had taken his constant reassurance to see her through a dark period where she could not forgive herself. They had parted ways with the companions Patroklos had travelled with briefly in his search for her, making their own way - or rather his, for she knew not where to go. Many a time, she would wander from his company, distraught, her mind in turmoil save for the definite thought that she was not worthy for this world, that her sins must be paid for.

One night, he found her, kneeling beside the still waters of a small, tucked away pool, bathed in moonlight. Her shield was laid neatly at her side, her sword was held to her throat. The point of the blade gently pierced her skin; a single line of blood disappeared down into her shirt.

She had decided: this was the end. She could not bear to face tomorrow when so many men, women...so many _children_ would never see the beauty of the sunrise again. It was over, and her dear brother could not stop her now. She was stronger than him; he tried to pull the sword away from her, but she would not relent. In the end, sobbing weakly like a child, he fell to his knees before her. She hadn't moved, she hadn't blinked or taken a breath, she merely continued to look up at the moonlit sky, offering her life to the gods.

"Pyrrha - oh Pyrrha, please...don't do this", Patroklos begged. She didn't answer. She couldn't; it hurt to talk, it tore her heart to tell a lie. She didn't deserve to live.

"Pyrrha, I need you", Patroklos said plainly, and quietly. "You are all I have left, Pyrrha...My life has been dedicated to seeking for you...You are my family. My sister. Pyrrha...I love you".

He did not wait for a response, instead he took the very blade of her sword in hand - and slowly drew it away from her throat. She let him. Looking down, she saw the blood running down his palm, his flesh sliced open. She took his hand into her own.

"Pyrrha...I can live with no one else, and I can't live by myself. I love you, so much".

His blood was warm upon her palm; she looked up at him slowly and found her eyes to be somewhat unfocused. His image wavered before her as a fog seemed to settle behind her eyes. A nauseating sensation was spreading through her body, burrowing into the pit of her stomach, chewing into her mind. He could see it happening, she knew, for a worried expression shaped his features.

"Pyrrha, what's wrong?"

"Patroklos", she whispered. Her tongue felt swollen and heavy, words and thoughts began to clog her throat. Her eyes rolled, and she knew she was about die. Something was spreading through her body, cold, clammy and clawing at the essence of her being. She muttered something unintelligible to her own ears, but her brother clearly understood.

He helped her to her feet, a supporting arm around her waist as he led her towards the pool of water. He was focused on getting her there, so much so that he didn't feel the subtle tremble that worried her stride for a moment. He didn't hear the slight gasp that escaped her. He didn't see her suddenly clutch her arm to her side, pushing it out of sight.

"Patroklos, quickly", she pleaded. Gritting her teeth, she forced the sensation spreading through her right arm away - but only for a moment. Pain pulsed through the limb with each step and Pyrrha hissed, a sound that gave her brother pause as he turned to her. He gave a start as he saw her eyes.

"No", Pyrrha begged, and she was startled by her own voice. It was warped almost to the point of non-recognition and Patroklos instinctively backed away, releasing her.

"Patroklos, _no_. I beg you. Please. I _need _you_"._

"Pyrrha? What..._what are you?_"

"Patroklos, please do not leave me now. Come into the water with me. _Trust me_. I beg you".

She felt him slipping. He was backing away from her now; her voice, her eyes, her arm - none of them belonged to her truly. But they were a part of her now.

Pyrrha stepped backwards with measured steps, walking down a natural slope into the cool water of the pool. She extended a hand towards him as she retreated into the pool; belatedly, she realised it was her right arm, which had twisted itself into a monstrous sight: a nightmarish talon-tipped claw lined with pulsing scarlet veins.

Eventually, she found herself in the centre of the small pool, the water soaking through her clothes and into her boots, drawing her into its embrace. Patroklos had not moved. His right hand clenched and unclenched. His throat seemed to pulse with a lifebeat of its own as he swallowed time and again.

She waited for him.

**xXxXxXx**

He came to her. She could see the effort it cost him. The first step was almost painful for him. She watched as he shed a past that had clung to his being like a parasite. She breathed at last as he entered the pool. He held her eyes as he approached. She could see his chest rising and falling. She could almost hear the beat of his heart in the silence of the night. She held her hand out to him.

He came before her, and she saw the hesitation in him before he placed his hand of flesh into her twisted claw. But she understood. Her heart inexplicably soared, and she felt her expression changing without her intent as something tugged gently at the corners of her lips. She understood what it was when she saw what she felt occur on Patroklos' face too.

She reached forward first, unbuttoning his cream-white shirt, and gradually, they began to undress each other. The cool night air upon her skin felt good as Patroklos slipped her dress from her shoulders. She wordlessly lifted her arms and he drew it over her head, leaving it to float alongside their shirts upon the water. She lowered her eyes to the water, and with both her natural and warped, monstrous claw, scooped the crystal clear liquid up. Patroklos lowered his head and the sound of water dripping into the pool filled the night as she tilted her hands over him. She closed her eyes as she bent her head forward.

Her body shuddered - violently - as the cool water ran down her hair and face. Before she could fathom it, she had lost all control of her body. She simply shook, as though the night possessed a biting cold and she had been left abandoned it. Something clean and pure and warm surged through her being, drawing like poison from a wound the corruption that was seeking to embed itself within her. Patroklos held her tightly to him, smothering her body's trembling with a strong embrace.

"Pyrrha..." he murmured into her ear. She lightly laid a hand on his chest and he loosened his embrace, allowing her to stand. She felt heat rising to her cheeks as she met his eyes; his skin was smooth and supple beneath her fingers, the firm strength of his chest interesting to the touch. She tried to speak, but instead, shyly cast her eyes down, though a smile curved her lips. She felt light and warm, and her smile only widened as she scooped water into her natural right hand, pouring it onto Patroklos' shoulder.

He followed after her lead, beginning with her arms. Heat began to warm her wholly at his administrations, and her breaths became light and easy. His hands slid down the length of her arms, reaching to her very fingertips, interlocking with her hands for a moment before dropping quietly to the water below. Water slipped through his fingers as he brought his hands to her chest. She closed her eyes as the cool liquid splashed upon her breasts and Patroklos' hands moulded themselves to their shape.

"Patroklos..." she breathed softly, drawing closer to him and exploring the contours of his back. Eyes closed, she giggled as she felt water pouring over her head. She felt free, at last. Patroklos' fingers slowly trailed through her wet locks, combing through them until he reached the tips, and then he dropped his hands to her shoulders, following the curve of her body up to her neck. She found herself breathing a little more quickly, anticipating something as she traced the contours of Patroklos' body, her hands sliding to his hips.

Tilting her face up slightly as Patroklos' hands reached her jaw, Pyrrha pulled him into her and pressed herself against him, enjoying his warmth intermingled with the cool water upon his skin. His mouth was suddenly the only thing in the world she needed, the only thing upon which she could focus. Hunger for his lips stirred deeply in her bowels.

They joined lips at last. He was soft and warm and sweet, and immediately, she was addicted to him. They shared several chaste kisses and something stole over them, something rooted deep within their beings, an undeniable instinct that would serve as their greatest mentor.

Pyrrha felt no shame as her brother's hands fell to her chest, cupping her breasts. Heat flowed through her as their kiss became fuelled with intensity, becoming deeper and fuller as their tongues met, a hunger driving them to explore the moist warmth of the other's mouth. Pyrrha consciously knew nothing of the male form, but her hands were quickly travelling south. Patroklos was pressed against her and there was an inexplicable ache that seemed to emanate from between her legs. She slipped her hands into his breeches, eager to find what it was that was pressing against her body, long and hard.

She gasped into their kiss as his fingers found her nipples, pinching hard. The potent mixture of sharp pain and pleasure stirred her arousal. She found it, the part of him that stirred her curiosity so, and fiercely, she dragged his breeches down his thighs to expose it. Just as she had gasped, Patroklos moaned as she took him in hand. Her curiosity was a fire burning through her being and suddenly, an inexperienced younger brother was completely under her control. The moment she heard - and felt - him groan, some instinct within her awoke, taking the reins of the moment.

Patroklos seemed to grasp her breasts for dear life as Pyrrha stroked the length of him, intrigued by this long, hard organ which seemed to be connected to her brother's body. It seemed to throb ever so slightly in her grip, and she quickly found that circling her hand around the top of it drew sharp gasps and grunts from him. She grinned into their kiss, suckling upon his tongue. But yet still, the ache between her legs remained - if anything, it had intensified. She heard her name groaned, and felt her brother's hands plunge beneath the water and push between her thighs. It was her turn to gasp.

Their lips met clumsily as they flooded each other's inexperienced body with pleasure. Her brother's fingers pumped into her and it felt _unbelievable_. She didn't understand why it should feel so, but right now, she was beyond rationalising it, she was beyond caring. All that mattered was that she bring her sweet brother the same pleasure that was building within her.

Suddenly, the intensity of the sensation exploded within her, so much so that she almost choked on her brother's name as she gasped. Her hands were moving on their own, stroking Patroklos' length almost furiously. Her brother's administrations were bringing about a sensation within her that felt as though it was going to split her in two. Sounds were coming deep from her throat that she couldn't recall intending to make and her legs were beginning to buckle.

A shout; Patroklos groaned loudly into the night, and Pyrrha joined him with her own cry of pleasure. A harmonious song that breathed the beginnings of the siblings' future.

They came down gradually from that wonderful high; Patroklos slowly withdrew his fingers from Pyrrha as she extracted herself from his breeches. Both gazed with curiosity and fascination at their hands for a long moment, smiling shyly at one another as they then dipped their hands into the water, helping each other to clean up. A soft, chaste kiss was shared before the siblings drew each other into strong embrace.

"Pyrrha, I'm so sorry..."

"Patroklos, let's put it behind us. Let's start again, just you and I...I love you".

They met eyes once more, sharing happiness and a promise. Pyrrha lifted a hand to her brother's cheek and drew his lips to hers once more. There was no one else who could understand her, no one else with who she could spend her life. And so, she felt no shame as she kissed her dear brother beneath the blessing of the stars.


	3. Chapter 3

**Mother's Ministrations**

Pyrrha scrambled to her feet, pulling the sheets off the bed haphazardly in her panic. A column of white light pierced through the ceiling of the room, illuminating the dark, dreary space. Pyrrha backed up until she felt the cold, hard wall at her back, and then she sank down, trembling fearfully. A figure began to form within the column of light, slowly becoming something solid and tangible. Pyrrha shrank away as a hand emerged, reaching out to her even though the figure dwelt on the opposite side of the room.

"Fear not, child", spoke a voice that filled the room, seeming to Pyrrha to come from everywhere at once. She jumped as she heard it seeming from the wall behind her, startled.

"Who - who are you?" Pyrrha cried out, though her cry was more akin to a hoarse whisper. She was such a timid girl, and her nature embodied this in all aspects. Even now, she clung tightly to herself as she sat on the floor, almost seeming to be at the point of tears. The hand pushed its way into the room, and at the end of it was connected an arm, the skin smooth and creamy, bearing nothing more than a golden band upon it. The arm led to a shoulder, and the shoulder led on to the torso of a woman as the figure stepped out of the column of light, which seemed to diminish as she did so.

Pyrrha stared at the woman in awe. She was clothed in white, though she could see her skin beneath it. At either side of her head, a styled fan of feathers pointed up into the air, and her face was hidden behind a heart-shaped mask of opaque, lilac glass. Faintly at the woman's back, Pyrrha could see wings, though they seemed to dim as she watched them until they were no longer in sight.

"I am here for you, child", the woman spoke.

"For...for me?" Pyrrha repeated, clutching herself tighter, "what do you want with me?"

"To bring you comfort", the woman said, spreading her arms as though to welcome Pyrrha into her embrace. Light seemed to emanate from her form as she did so, and inexplicably, a warmth settled upon Pyrrha whose origin she could not discern. For a moment, she loosened her arms about herself, but then she remembered the harshly spoken instructions Tira had drilled into her before she left the house. She had already broken one of them: she was not to make a sound.

"I don't know you", she said to the mysterious woman, "I can't trust you. Please, leave..."

The woman did nothing for a moment, and then she slowly passed a hand across her face. The mask began to disintegrate into spots of light that hung on the air for a moment before winking out of existence. Pyrrha gazed at them, captured by their beauty, drawn momentarily into a world of peace where she was required to do nothing more than admire the glittering light. But then her eyes were drawn to the woman's face. They widened in an instant.

"You - ! You look like me!"

Pyrrha was sure her heart had stopped, a feeling of shock she had never experienced before flooded her body, and she was completely unaware that her mouth hung open. The woman smiled at her kindly, her blue eyes sparkling as a thick, long braid of golden hair tumbled down her back.

"Pyrrha, my dear child, come".

Pyrrha could only stare at the woman, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, and then something within her broke, a wall she hadn't known existed. Tears came swiftly to her eyes and a moment later, a passionate cry burst from her lips. She scrambled over the bed and clung fiercely to her mother.

**XxXxXxX**

Pyrrha felt content as she lay her head in her mother's lap, looking up at the face that was both hers and yet not. She had still not been able to fully comprehend that there was someone else in the world who looked just like her, who had the same hair, the same eyes, the same curvature to the lips when smiling. Her mother had produced a mirror once and let her see them both side by side, she remembered fondly that she could not stop looking from the mirror to her mother beside her, and the laugh her mother produced as she did so.

It had been a week since her mother's first appearance. After revealing her face, allowing Pyrrha to come to the shocking revelation as to the identity of the person standing before her, Pyrrha had been unable to do nothing more than cry. Her mother had waited with her, stroking her head and rubbing her back in comfort, saying nothing but merely letting Pyrrha release her emotions. They had heard Tira return to the house, and her mother had promised to visit her daily before she disappeared, borne upwards in the column of light by which she had descended. Before leaving, she had passed a hand across Pyrrha's face, removing all traces of her tears. Pyrrha had quickly tidied to bed before Tira barged into the room, nothing was out of place.

Each day, her mother visited as promised. She had instructed Pyrrha to call to her whenever Tira left the house, and inspired by the form in which she took, Pyrrha had lowered herself to her knees and prayed, whispering to the heavens. Doubt chewed momentarily at her heart, but her mother had descended as promised, and Pyrrha could not suppress the smile that curved her lips as the warmth of relief and happiness spread through her.

**XxXxXxX**

"I used to hold you like this when you were a babe", her mother told her as she cradled Pyrrha's head in the crook of her arm, "you loved to suckle at my teat".

"I...I don't remember that", Pyrrha murmured, looking away as she felt her cheeks grow warm. Her mother stroked her hair fondly, looking away at the opposite wall with an unfocused gaze, clearly reminiscing.

"Of course not, darling. We tend not to remember the things we did at that age, consciously at least".

"Consciously?" Pyrrha repeated, turning her face to look up at her mother, her gaze drifting distractedly to her chest before snapping back to attention. Her mother looked down at her, a knowing smile on her lips.

"Indeed, a part of our minds, locked deep away beyond our reach...there, we remember".

"I don't quite understand, mother", Pyrrha admitted quietly.

"Our bodies remember", her mother said lightly. She reached to her chest, her hand sliding underneath the the shift and tugging down the length of white cloth that covered her breasts. They spilled out of the cloth, and Pyrrha found herself transfixed, unable to tear her gaze away from them. She felt a strange hunger, her lips suddenly becoming dry as her tongue twitched with longing. The swell of her mother's chest seemed to call out to her, plump and round, yet firm. The warm pink of her nipples filled her sight, and she was becoming gradually aware of a sudden desire to lick her lips.

"Come, child", her mother bid gently, "suckle".

Pyrrha stared blankly for a moment up at her mother, certain of what she had heard, yet disbelieving. She swallowed uncomfortably.

"Mother", she said quietly, turning away, "I don't...I don't think that would be proper".

"I am here to bring you comfort, Pyrrha, how ever that may be", her mother said, reaching down to turn Pyrrha's face, warm sincerity in her eyes. "You have missed out on so much of your life, my child. It is only you and I here, so come: take your pleasure".

Pyrrha slowly - hesitantly, lifted her head, assured by the supporting arm cradling her.

"I'm afraid there is no milk", she heard her mother say as she parted her lips, "but close your eyes, my child. Let your mind return to you the memories you have lost".

Pyrrha took her mother's teat gently into her mouth. Within moments, her body had taken control over itself. She suckled enthusiastically, lifting a hand to her mother's chest and gently massaging her breast as though to tease forth milk. Her mother leaned back against the wall, the sound of her quiet sigh filling the room.

**XxXxXxX**

Her mother sighed again as she lapped at the tip of her nipple with her tongue and Pyrrha grew more anxious. The sounds her mother had been making as she had been suckling over the past two days had at first confused her, and then begun to worry her deeply. Something had taken over her tongue and mouth and hands after she had first laid her lips upon her mother's breast, and at the back of her mind, she had begun to understand that what she was doing was far removed from the suckling she may have done as a babe. But her actions were beginning to draw numerous, continuous quiet sighs from her mother. Tira made the same noise whenever Pyrrha 'prattled at her' for too long.

"Mother", Pyrrha said, eventually working up the courage to speak, her voice small and fearful, "are you...bored with me?"

"Pyrrha?" her mother said, the tone of surprise clear upon her voice, "what do you mean?"

Noting the tone of surprise in her voice and growing even more confused, Pyrrha explained herself.

"Whenever I...suckle, you seem to sigh. Tira always sighs when I speak to her...she tells me I'm...boring".

Pyrrha looked away, feeling tears brimming at the corners of her eye. A moment later, she felt her mother's at her cheek, turning her face. An amused smile hung on her lips.

"Pyrrha, my dear, oh, how you have missed so much of life. Let me explain - no...no. Let me show you, Pyrrha".

She moved her hands to the hem of Pyrrha's shirt, pushing it upwards to her chest. Belatedly, Pyrrha realised what she was doing and instinctively raised her arms protectively over herself. But her mother spoke to her soothingly, sincerity and warmth in her voice, giving her the time and space she needed to settle herself. Slowly, she removed her arms. Her mother pushed the shirt up past her breasts and she felt the cool air upon her skin as her chest was exposed. Embarrassment warmed her cheeks as she flung her arms over herself once again. Her mother's smile was coloured with amusement, and her blue eyes sparkled. She took her own breast in hand.

"Come, Pyrrha. Suckle".

Pyrrha hesitantly leant forwards, still with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. But the moment she laid her lips upon the teat, her hands moved of their own accord, taking her mother's breast in hand. Her mother made no sound this time, but Pyrrha suddenly felt a hand at her chest. The hand, cool and gentle, cupped her breast. Pyrrha began to experience a sensation she couldn't name as her mother lightly kneaded her breast, and then she felt a quick pinch at her nipple and gasped, first in pain, but then -

"Pleasure, Pyrrha", her mother explained with a single word, circling her finger around Pyrrha's nipple, pinching it ever so lightly between two fingers, and then massaging her breast with light pressure once more. Pyrrha gasped with each ministration, her focus completely drawn to the alien sensation emanating from her chest and spreading through her body. Her hand weakly slipped from her mother's chest, falling to rest atop her mother's at her own chest, clutching it tightly after a moment as something that felt _good_ surged through her.

"Oh", she gasped, "mother, what -" but another gasp stole her voice as her mother pinched her again, applying a little more pressure this time.

"There's more, my child", her mother said as she lowered her face down to Pyrrha's chest, "this is how I feel when you suckle".

Pyrrah's eyes snapped wide open and her free hand gripped the bedsheets in a vice-grip as her mother took her into her soft, warm mouth. Her tongue was strong and quick, flicking across the tip of her nipple. Pyrrha finally understood, and she did more than just sigh.

**XxXxXxX**

She sat cross-legged on the bed, her mother kneeling behind her, massaging the soreness from her shoulders. Tira had taken her out to the woods at the back of the house to meet the man she had hired to train to fight. Pyrrha knew it to be a farce: she was more than adept with her shield and sword and Tira knew this, but of her actual motive, Pyrrha was unsure. She tried not to worry about for the moment. Her mother's ministrations soothed her body, she had been fighting the man for longer than she cared to recall, and it hurt even to think about moving her arms. There was one thing she would always have the strength for, though.

Since that first time, she was unable to live throughout the day when Tira occupied the small house along with her without thinking about her mother and the way she touched her body. The sensation it sent flooding through her - pleasure...she adored it. She was addicted to the way her body grew warm as her mother's lips closed over her nipple and her hand squeezed her breast. They had sat face to face on one occasion, leaning against each other's forehead as they reached forwards to knead each other's breasts. Pyrrha remembered feeling the intense desire to touch her lips to her mother's in that moment as she gazed down at them, but she had resisted. For some reason, she was uncomfortable with that idea...

She lifted her aching arms to her shoulders, taking hold of her mother's hands. Her mother allowed her to bring them down to her chest, beginning to massage her breasts. Pyrrha sighed and closed her eyes, resting the back of her head on her mother's shoulder as she felt her nipples pinched and pulled. But all too soon, her mother's hands stopped.

"Mother?"

"There is something else I want to show you, Pyrrha", her mother explained, her hands falling away from her chest tracing a path down her body towards her crossed legs.

"What is it, mother?" Pyrrha asked, intrigued.

"A woman's centre", her mother replied, "the place where she will experience her greatest pleasure".

Her mother's hands reached the undershorts she had stripped down to and paused for a moment. Pyrrha watched them, curious and confused, for to her, there was no greater sensation than that which her mother's tongue and hands wrought within her. Those hands crept beneath the undershorts, and immediately Pyrrha understood - or thought she did, for she snatched her mother's hands back quickly.

"No - mother, don't. I...you shouldn't touch that place", she tried to explain, feel her cheeks grow hot. Her mother laughed softly.

"Pyrrha, my dear. This place is meant for much more than relieving yourself, much more. Trust me, I will show you".

Again, her mother gave her the time she needed to adjust herself to the idea, though it took much longer than it had previously. Slowly, she released her grip on her mother's wrist.

"Are you ready, Pyrrha?" her mother asked kindly. Pyrrha swallowed a whimper of embarrassment at the idea of the place her mother wanted to touch, she could not see how it would make her feel the sensation she enjoyed when her chest was pleasured. But she had also not understood how her suckling had given her mother pleasure, and she had trusted her then, when she wanted to show her.

"Okay", she whispered. "I'm ready, mother".

"Good girl", her mother murmured, "here I come", she said in a playful, amused tone.

Pyrrha winced pre-emptively as her mother's hands slid beneath her undershorts, and then she felt the lightest touch of fingertips against her. Her eyes snapped open.

"...Mother?"

It felt...she couldn't quite explain it. All she knew was that her heart was beginning to race, and she could faintly hear its beat in her ear as though it had been ripped out and pressed to the side of her head. Her mother didn't respond to her. Pyrrha 's hands fell to the bed and the sheets bunched up into her fists as her mother's fingers began to trace small circles, the shapes pulling open and pushing together her lower lips. Her breaths quickly grew heavy and frequent as her mother flattened the fingers of one hand against her, applying a slight pressure as she began a small circular motion. Something rose up to Pyrrha's throat, threatening to burst from her lips and she turned her head into her mother's shoulder, scared to open her mouth. A whimper escaped her though, when she felt two fingers pull her lower lips apart and a third dipped between them, tracing a very shallow line up and down, up and down...

A weak cry slipped from her lips as her mother's finger traced upwards further than before, and seemed to settle upon a point that positively flooded her being with a sensation that was twice as strong than what she had experienced as of yet. A few moments later, that single digit began to move in a circular motion, accompanied with slight pressure. At the same time, another finger crept between her lips, penetrating deeper and deeper.

Pyrrha _groaned_.

"Mother", she gasped as she turned her face upwards. Her mother's eyes were hot, the sparkle of amusement consumed by a fire, and Pyrrha gazed into it, enthralled.

"Mother - I think I'm going to scream. I don't want to scream - mother - Tira made me promise I wouldn't make any noise - I don't want to - "

Her mother's lips settled atop hers. Pyrrha moaned fiercely into the kiss as pleasure burned through her body.

**XxXxXxX**

"Mother?"

"Yes, Pyrrha?"

"Why...why did you abandon me?"

"I have been waiting for that question, I'm surprised you did not ask it sooner".

"I...I wanted to make sure...you were real".

"This is not a dream, my child, I assure you of it.

"I'm glad".

"I did not abandon you, Pyrrha. Tira has lied to you, all these years. She stole you from me when you were just a babe, and used you against me to force me to do as she bid. We clashed, eventually, fifteen years ago...she walked away with her life".

"She - she killed you?"

"Yes, I have never been shamed in such a manner. It was a fight I should not have lost. I had everything to lose, there was no greater motivation than the life of my daughter...forgive me, Pyrrha".

"It's...It's okay, mother. I'm happy you here, now".

"Yes, it seems I still have work to do. As you see, I am alive, in this form".

"You are an angel, mother".

"I'm not sure, darling. Perhaps that is so...will you trust me, Pyrrha?"

"Mother, of course I will".

"You must not tell Tira of this, or reveal that you now know the truth. And you must do as she bids, no matter what".

"But mother...I hate killing. It tears my heart to steal a life! Mother, I can't - "

"You _must_ do this, Pyrrha. I am so sorry to have to burden you like this, but you are part of something greater than even I can hope to imagine. Please...trust me".

"...Okay, mother. I will trust you".

"That's my girl. I love you, Pyrrha".

Pyrrha felt the warmth of her mother's love deep within her. She smiled contentedly as she closed her eyes, drifting away in her mother's embrace. Just as she stepped over the edge into the land of peace and sleep, she very faintly heard a woman's voice and laughter.

"It is done. The pieces...are in place".


	4. Chapter 4

**Chains and Catastrophe**

Elysium stirred, a pulsing pain nestled behind her eyes causing her head to throb. She hissed as she returned slowly and painfully to consciousness. The total darkness of unconsciousness began to fade into the darkness of a space she didn't know or recognize. It was more than unsettling, for Elysium in all her days had never known darkness. She tried to rise in panicked haste, only to find that cold metal bit into her ankles. She realised then that a cold, hard floor met with her knees. She tried to move her hands down to her legs, but found that cold metal was wrapped tightly around her wrists, and that her arms were drawn up to hang in the air. She paused for a moment, panic receding as she began to consider her situation. It seemed she had been...captured. Fascinating. But she was far more than human. Effortlessly, Elysium reached for her otherworldly power, willing light into the space she occupied and destroying the bonds upon her limbs.

But nothing happened.

"_What?_"

Elysium tried again: nothing. The store of power within her was utterly depleted, and when she tried to reach into the otherworldly realm to draw from there power, she found that she could not extend her senses beyond her present surroundings. Panic and confusion began to seep in. She was reduced to the mere power of the weak human form she had donned. She pulled fiercely at the chains wrapped around her ankles and wrists, but to no avail save imprinting the pattern of them upon her skin. She winced - in...pain? She knew of the feeling, but she had never herself experienced it before. Was she trapped now in this form she had taken to appease the boy?

The chains jangled loudly as she shook her limbs wildly, convinced she could pull herself free with brute strength. But that strength she thought she possessed seemed to be draining away with every moment. Soon her breathing was laboured, and her chest rose and fell. But then, her dipped head rose, her eyes narrowed suddenly in an attempt to pierce the darkness.

She heard voices.

XxXxXxX

"We finally did it, Pyrrha", Patroklos spoke softly as he walked hand in hand with her towards the room, tucked deep away within the cold, quiet, and for years unoccupied house. Pyrrha held his hand of flesh gently in her twisted claw; though she had freed herself of the influence of Soul Edge through sheer force of will, its effect on her body remained. She had but for a moment become a monster, and though she had fought and retained her mind, many still would look upon her and see only the claw she would bear for the rest of her days. Were it not for Patroklos, it was likely she would have cast her life away in despair.

"I finally get to meet her", Pyrrha said, "our mother".

"Well, it is merely the form of our mother", Patroklos explained as they followed the path of a long, narrow corridor, dust rising with each of their footsteps.

"Still", Pyrrha replied, "you said she retained her appearance and even memories..."

"Indeed she did. Worry not Pyrrha, we can still indulge ourselves. We've been looking forward to this for so long now".

Pyrrha nodded her agreement, clutching her brother's hand a little tighter. She had a dulled sense of feeling in her claw; it had taken a while to become used to it and develop a sense of how to use it as a normal hand of flesh. Patroklos was always patient with her, though, even at times when she almost squeezed him to the point of breaking without realising. She could _just_ feel the warmth of his hand in hers, and it gave her comfort.

"We're here", Patroklos announced as they preceded down towards the first door along the corridor's length, plain and brown with a film of dust settled atop its surface. Pyrrha felt her heart beating with excitement, they had dreamt of this for days and weeks.

"Patroklos", she said, turning to him as they paused at the door, "how did you catch her?"

He turned to her and offered a sly smile, his eyes lighting up as he spoke.

"I will explain...inside", he said as he lifted a hand Pyrrha's cheek, stroking his thumb along her skin.

"Are you ready, sister?"

"I am", she said, reaching forwards and tugging him closer to her, murmuring her words directly onto his lips. A moment later, she giggled and pushed him away. He grinned wolfishly at her after raising an accusatory eyebrow, before reaching forwards to turn the doorknob.

XxXxXxX

Elysium experienced heavily conflicting feelings in the space of a single moment as the door cracked open and blinding light pierced the room. She winced and pressed her eyes shut; they had been growing accustomed to the darkness of her surroundings and the sudden burst of light brought her pain. Such as it was, she did not see who entered the room and pressed the door shut behind them. But she felt them.

The essence of Soul Calibur hung heavy in the air around one like a sweet aroma, and she lifted her face to it and breathed easily. And then the acrid scent of Soul Edge pervaded her nostrils, her deep intake of breath filling her nose and mouth with its stench and causing her to gag.

"Soul Edge", she hissed into the darkness, leaning back against her bonds away from its presence. Though she sensed Soul Calibur within the room, she could not tell from who or what the essence stemmed. The same was true for Soul Edge, but one thing her dulled senses slowly began to become attuned to was the fact that both seemed to dwell beside one another, both physically and a deeper, emotional bond. Elysium glared into the darkness with confusion.

"Show yourself!"

"Mother, it's so good to see you again".

Elysium gave a start; she recognized the voice and immediately attached an identity to the essence of Soul Calibur emanating from the individual's being.

"My dear son", she spoke softly, adopting the persona which she had discovered held impressive power of the boy's mind. She had sought to use it to bring him into submission, her tool on earth through which she would wield the holy sword.

"Sweet Patroklos, where are we? And who is that beside you?" she asked, her senses finally alerting her to the presence beside the boy, revealing it to be a young girl who she thought she recognised.

"...Mother?" The girl's voice - quiet and innocent - floated through the room, yet to Elysium, it was tinged with the cancerous murmur of Soul Edge. She recoiled instinctively away from it.

"Who are you?" she demanded, "you that bears the cursed sword!"

"She is my sister, Mother. Your daughter", Patroklos answered, his voice coming from behind her though she had not heard his footsteps. She strained to look over her shoulder, though her eyes still failed to pierce the dark. The sound of a match being struck gave her pause, and a moment later, a weak orange light was born in the dark corner of the room.

Shadows danced and swayed in the wake of candle light, and Elysium was finally able to see - to an extent, that extent being the pale face of Patroklos wrapped in shadow, with his form melting in and out of the darkness. He didn't seem too concerned with the candle's apparent failure to cast real illumination within the room.

Her eyes snapped around as she heard the scratching of a match on the opposite side of the room. Weak candle light threw the features of a young girl into troubled view, shadows dancing across her cheeks. She saw a monstrous arm, mottled with darkness and hanging at the girl's side, and recoiled instinctively away from it with a hiss, straining against the cold chains locked about her limbs.

"Come now, Mother, won't you greet her?" Patroklos asked, and she heard his voice moving around the room. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she saw that he had moved away from the candlelight.

"She is tainted with Soul Edge", Elysium said through gritted teeth, "she is _poison"._

The girl gasped with hurt. Elysium glared fiercely into the darkness, pulling fiercely at the chains now and filling the room with their ringing, instinctively intent on purging Soul Edge. But then, a familiar hand rested itself upon her shoulder.

"Mother, please", Patroklos said gently, "she is family. We are all family. Because of our weakness, she became victim to Soul Edge. Let us welcome her now, Mother. Welcome her as you welcomed me".

"I will not!" Elysium said determinedly to Patroklos, though she could not raise her voice or grow angry with him. The physical presence of the essence of Soul Calibur upon her shoulder soothed her. Instinctively, she leaned into his touch, the energy of the holy sword flowing through to her, beginning to sharpen her senses and slowly return her strength to her -

"Come, Pyrrha", Patroklos called softly. Elysium heard the shuffling footsteps of the girl, and felt the dangerous, hateful presence of Soul Edge drawing closer.

"No! Away from me!" she cried out, pulling ever more fiercely at her bonds.

"Mother", murmured the girl as she drew near, "I have waited to meet you for so long. Please, embrace me".

Elysium cringed as the girl knelt down before and wrapped her arms around her. The rough, twisted skin of her warped arm scratched her flesh, and she could almost hear the whisper of the cursed sword. She seethed at the girl's impudence. But then, Patroklos had knelt behind her, and as he too took her into his arms, she was soothed. The influence of Soul Edge was quenched beneath the light of the holy sword from whence her existence stemmed. She leaned backwards against Patroklos' chest.

"Mother, don't you see?" he said, "we are a family, and we are all we have left for each other".

"I'm so happy", Pyrrha whispered, resting her head against Elysium's chest.

Patroklos - Soul Calibur, was cool at her back. Pyrrha, with the influence of Soul Edge present within her was hot and prickly against Elysium's skin. Elysium tried to turn her head and body away from the girl, but the embrace of the siblings was tight around her.

"This is the happiness I promised you, Pyrrha", Patroklos said over Elysium's shoulder, "Mother, won't you greet her as you did to me?"

Elysium turned her head towards him. "What?"

His face was hidden in mottled darkness, though they were so close to each other, but she felt his cool palms suddenly at her jaw. The cool presence of Soul Calibur eased the prickly, uncomfortable heat that stemmed from the girl's contact with her.

"Come, Pyrrha", Patroklos said softly.

"Are you sure, brother?" Pyrrha asked, lifting her face. Her eyes sparkled with innocence and her skin was tinged with the slightest blush. Shadows danced across her freckled cheeks as she gazed up into her brother's eyes.

"Of course, Pyrrha", he assured her with a soothing tone.

Elysium looked and listened with growing confusion, sifting quickly through the memories stored in the form she had taken to appease the boy to no avail. But then, she felt the girl - and the wicked heat of Soul Edge, drawing closer. Understanding dawned.

"Awa -!"

The girl's lips sealed hers. Elysium's eyes widened in shock and ripped her lips away - or at least would have, if Patroklos had not held her face steady, his hands somehow becoming a vice she could not overpower, though he seemed to be exerting no extra pressure upon her.

"That's it", he said, "greet her as you did me, Mother. With a kiss. Warm with love and hope for a better future. Isn't that so?"

Unfortunately, that was exactly how she had first welcomed him when she had drawn his spirit being to the otherwordly land that had become her place of rest. But it had been for the greater good, to forge him into the perfect tool through which she would purge the chaos of Soul Edge from the world below. But now, that very same influence was in direct contact with her, burning lips upon hers, and the only thing keeping her from screaming out in disgust and wrath the cool, soothing hands of Soul Calibur's chosen wielder.

"She's warm and soft, Patroklos", Pyrrha whispered as she parted lips.

"Yes, she is", Patroklos agreed, his hands moving slowly down away from her face, tracing the path of her neck and sliding across to her shoulders. His touch excited her skin with ripples of energy, the essence of the holy sword empowering her form, returning to her her strength -

"Kiss her again, Pyrrha. Take your time".

Elysium protested as the girl's lips sealed hers once more, and she found that her strength was sapped. Even without Patroklos' hands at her jaw, she could not turn her head. It was more than just the taint of Soul Edge upon the girl's tongue as she slipped it between her lips, there was something else at work here. She pulled weakly at the chains. Patroklos hummed softly as his hands slipped underneath the thin shift that clothed her torso.

Elysium gasped as she felt his hands upon her breasts, gently squeezing them as a single digit flicked slowly across her nipple. She leaned back into his body, and as Pyrrha released her lips, she turned her face to him, breathing a weighted sigh. Pyrrha brought her lips to Elysium's bare neck, lapping at the sweet flesh and leaving her skin moist with kisses.

"Patroklos, my dear son, you will not lie to your mother, will you?"

"Of course not, Mother. I love you", Patroklos answered. His hands slid to the underside of her breasts, lifting and squeezing them as his thumbs brushed lightly across the nipple.

"Where am I?" she said in a breathy voice, "if you love me, my son, why have you chained me? And what are these chains? Do you seek to torture me?"

"Slowly now, Mother", Patroklos said, breathing the words into her ear as he gave her breasts a firm squeeze, drawing the hint of a gasp from her lips. He rested his head against her shoulder, looking down on Pyrrha as she lapped and kissed the flesh of her throat. She raised her eyes to meet his, and he of course saw through the veil of innocence and shyness she had adopted, gazing into the fire of passion and lust that stirred his loins. She traced a path with her lips and tongues, bringing herself ever closer to him until their breath, warm and sweet, intermingled. She teased him with the promise of her lips, remaining _just_ out of reach.

"These chains, Mother, they are brilliant, don't you think?" he asked, removing a hand for a moment to reach up and lightly tug at the chains.

"You would look upon them and think nothing of it...but they seem strong enough to bind my angelic mother".

"What are they?" Elysium demanded, leaning away from Pyrrha's lips.

"They are formed from the metal of the two swords, Mother - mostly Soul Edge, but a little of Soul Calibur, too. To soothe you".

Elysium's eyes widened. "You turned to the swords into _chains? _You melted down the great swords of legend into mere strips of metal?"

Patroklos chuckled. "Mother, you underestimate us".

"We can control their form", Pyrrha explained, "right, Patroklos?"

"That we can", he said, smiling. But Elysium shook her head, what they were saying was unfathomable. Impossible.

"I do not believe it".

"Then free yourself", she heard Patroklos say, and she could hear the smirk in his tone. Still, she shook her head, and while doing so pulled again at the chains around her wrist and ankles.

"How?" she demanded.

"I worried that you would sense my plans when I called to you, but it seems I should have more faith in myself. I used the essence of Soul Calibur to mask my intentions, and then to bring you into submission".

"I would not succumb to a mere human!" Elysium said fiercely. Patroklos smiled.

"But you did, Mother. You see, I understood that I possessed Soul Calibur in its full, true form, while you were a...spiritual offshoot of it, thus through the sword I hold, I have authority over you".

Elysium kept her silence for a moment, seething. What the boy said was true, though his manner of explaining and clearly understanding it was simple.

"Then..._why?_"

"So that we could be a family, Mother. It only seemed fair that we should reunite as we did when you first called and revealed yourself to me".

"I will not dwell with a child of Soul Edge!"

"Come, Patroklos", Pyrrha murmured softly, her lips parted and moist. He leaned over Elysium's shoulder and joined his lips with his sister's. Elysium looked on in absolute horror. Unlike the shy, hesitant manner in which the girl had kissed her, with her brother she was suddenly comfortable and at ease. Elysium felt nausea chewing through her stomach as she watched them explore each other's mouth thoroughly, tongues curving around each other as they probed deep and long between lips. It was not the sight of incestuous passion that stirred her disgust, but the intimate union of Soul Edge and Soul Calibur.

"Stop this!" she cried out, pulling at the chains, "it is forbidden!"

They drew away from each other, slowly. Pyrrha's tongue hung limp and wet and quivering from her open mouth as Patroklos gazed into her eyes with a fierce intensity. She drew her tongue back into its abode as she leaned forward against Elysium's body, reaching down to Patroklos' groin and slipping warm hands into his breeches.

"Mother", he spoke as Pyrrha released him and he stood to his feet, "allow us to greet you".

She needed to regain her strength. The power of the swords had corrupted them both. The girl, victim to Soul Edge was of no surprise. But Elysium was shocked and horrified with Patroklos. He had defiled the holy sword by lying with the bearer of Soul Edge. He had more than just lost his way, he had rejected the order and purpose of the sword that had deemed him worthy to wield it. They would both need to be purged from this world, their taint was sickening. She had realised that direct contact with Patroklos and the essence of Soul Calibur would begin to restore her. Conversely, the touch of the girl sapped her strength. But she was sure of their intentions now, despite the influence of the Soul Edge through the wretched girl's contact with her, she would draw from Patroklos the power of the holy sword, and slay him in the fire of its wrath.

XxXxXxX

Patroklos curled a hand around himself and stroked slowly as he turned to stand before his mother. She was chained to the floor on her knees, her form wrapped in the darkness of the room which danced in the weak candlelight stemming from its corners. He could not see her clearly, the sway of the shadows causing her to seem to melt in and out of a state of solidity. Her creamy skin, long golden hair and pure white colour of her clothes stood out, however. He adopted a wide stance as he reached forward with his other hand, taking his mother's face between his fingers. Pyrrha crawled between his legs, settling herself on her knees and leaning down to take their mother's breasts into her hands, the nipples into her mouth.

"Come, Mother", he said, smiling down at her. She lifted her eyes to his as she leaned forwards, opening her mouth to take him in.

"Mmm", he moaned appreciatively as she slipped his head between her lips. He reached behind her head, pushing his fingers into her thick, soft hair and giving her an encouraging nudge forwards. She took more of him into her mouth, wrapping her lips tightly around him and trailing her tongue against the underside of his length. He pushed his hips forwards, lifting his eyes briefly upwards as her mouth - warm and wet - greedily took him in. Her lips were tight around him and the pressure of her tongue heavy against him. She began to move her lips along his length, swift and practised.

He groaned loudly, reaching down between his legs and running his fingers through Pyrrha's hair as she squeezed and licked and sucked, finding the differences between the textures of his mother's and sister's hair fascinating. Pyrrha's was not as thick, or as long, but it felt more silky to the touch. It slid easily between his fingers as he pushed them deep into her locks.

His mother's administrations suddenly distracted him as she steadily picked up her pace, maddeningly arousing slurping and sucking sounds coming from her lips as she pleasured him. He moaned deeply in satisfaction, turning his face up to the dark ceiling.

"Eager today, aren't you, Mother?" Patroklos said with a smirk as he looked down at her. Her head bobbed back and forth, her eyes gazing up at him, shining.

"Mmm. Slow down..." he murmured, and as he spoke, he pulled firmly on her hair. She gave a small yelp as her head was pulled backwards. He slipped from her mouth, his length glistening with her saliva as pre-cum oozed from his tip. He tilted her head to look up at him.

"There is no rush, okay Mother? We have time, so much time. Now", he said, bringing his tip to rest on her lips, "nice and slow".

She opened her mouth and he re-introduced himself to her. She closed her lips just behind his head, and slowly lapped at his flesh, applying a gentle, rhythmic suction.

"That's it", Patroklos told her as she gradually took in more of him, "it feels _so_ good".

"Pyrrha, sweet sister", he said as he lifted his hand from her hair. Her lips locked around their mother's nipple, she only hummed in response.

"Mmm?"

"Make her ready for me".

Patroklos pushed his now free hand into his mother's hair and began to guide her movement as he pushed his hips forward. She took the entirety of his length without complaint, her eyes always intensely focused on his as he groaned with every other thrust. A few moments later though, she suddenly lurched forwards, her back arching as a gasp escaped her throat. Patroklos grinned. Glancing down, he saw his sister lying between their mother's knees, hands pushed beneath the small length of cloth that veiled her loins.

"It feels good, doesn't it?" he said to her, gripping her hair tighter as he pushed her down his length. Glancing down again, he saw that Pyrrha was giving her administrations with the claw Soul Edge's influence had cursed her with. Clearly, the uneven texture of the limb was wildly different to the sensation his digits had drawn from his mother in their past encounters, for it seemed to be driving her rather quickly to the brink. She moaned into him, and he answered with his own groan as the vibrations rippled through him. He suddenly felt his member throbbing, and through sheer, but practised will, took himself from between her warm lips. She gasped as he released himself, breathing audibly and heavily, her head drooping as Pyrrha now set her tongue to work.

Patroklos himself took several deep breaths, calming himself and his body as he moved round Elysium, finally settling on his knees behind her. There, he contented himself for a few moments by merely watching the incredibly erotic scene unfolding before him. Pyrrha had pushed a single thick, clawed digit into their mother's centre, and her tongue flicked delicately across her pink bud. Whimpers of pleasure were quickly becoming audible, and Elysium shook her head to and fro, her thick golden braid swaying from side to side along her back as her knees began to tremble.

"Patroklos", he heard her say, "my son, I need you".

He smiled and called to his sister instead, taking himself in hand. She looked up at him before shifting her body slightly so that she could accommodate him. He lifted his posture, pressing his body against his mother's back as he fed his length into Pyrrha's waiting mouth. Resting his head upon her shoulder once more, he allowed his hands to trace a path down to her inner thighs, pausing to catch her stiff, wet nipples between a thumb and finger. Then, reaching her centre, he slipped a finger between her lips alongside his sister's. His mother cast her beautiful head back against his shoulder with a long groan.

"Isn't this wonderful, Mother?" he asked. "We are together at last, as a family".

"Patroklos..." she whispered in his ear.

Below them, Patroklos felt Pyrrha release him with one last greedy lap of pre-cum, before taking him in hand to guide him to their mother's centre. He shuffled forwards a little on his knees when she gave him a slight tug.

"Here I come, Mother", he murmured as Pyrrha pressed his tip to his mother's lips.

"Yes, Patroklos", she breathed, " I want you".

Lifting both hands to his mother's chest, Patroklos then pushed himself between her lips, driving to the hilt of his length. Her shout of pleasure was music to his ears, but he did not give her time to savour it, instead gripping her breasts firmly to use as leverage as he began to thrust deeply into her. The wet slap of flesh joined her chorus of pleasure, and Patroklos began to whisper into her ear as her body shook with each of his thrusts.

Pyrrha rose up from beneath them, placing herself in front of them with her legs spread wide. Supporting herself with one hand, the other - the clawed, twisted hand - moved down between her legs, lifting her skirts and disappearing into her undergarments, two thick digits parting her lips as another plunged deep into her. Her groans and whimpers soon harmonized with her mother's. Her intense gaze was fixed on Patroklos as he watched her pleasure herself. She tossed her golden locks for him and he groaned deeply, thrusting strong and deep into their mother. He grit his teeth as he felt his member throb, pressure building throughout his length. Watching him intently, Pyrrha saw him reaching the brink and in between her cries of pleasure, whispered "Come, Patroklos. My dear brother, _come_".

"Hnngh -!"

But he couldn't - not yet. His mother had always made him withdraw. She refused him nothing save him releasing his seed within her. It was a practice that had carried over to the relationship between himself and Pyrrha. They had no means of preventing pregnancy, and beyond that, they were aware of the nature of the energies flowing through them. Even in the throes of pleasure, they somehow managed to retain the sensibility to consider the repercussions that could harm a future child. And so, reining himself in, gritting his teeth to the point of pain, Patroklos pulled himself from his mother's warm, wet centre. He squeezed the muscles of his loin tightly as he made to stand and move around to push himself into his mother's mouth. Instead, she cried: 'No!"

"Patroklos, wait", she spoke quickly, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder.

"Mother?"

"We are a family now", she said, "together forever. I cannot deny you anything any longer, my dear son. It has been a great trial, I know. Forgive me. Let us commemorate this moment, Patroklos. Come".

Patroklos stared down at his mother for a long moment, keeping the presence of mind at least to continue squeezing the muscles of his loins until the fiery urge began to waver.

"Are - are you sure?"

"I am", she told him, her voice warm and sincere. "We are family now, let us become one, you and I".

XxXxXxX

Elysium sifted rapidly through the memories of the form she had taken, drawing upon facial expressions through which to best persuade Patroklos to finish what she had always forbidden him from doing so. She brought a warm, coaxing smile to her lips and a joyous, sincere light to her eyes. He seemed to be deep in thought, but eventually, a smile broke through, curving his mouth.

"I agree", he said at last, "we have held ourselves back for so long".

"Indeed, my son", she said softly, smiling up at him. And then she turned her head, hearing the movement of his feet, her centre expectant and aching to be filled. Her body trembled not only in the anticipation of pleasure but also the anticipation of the immense surge of power that would flow into her when Patroklos came to his completion within her. Taking him into her mouth and centre had already restored a portion of her power - though not yet enough to burst the chains the two great swords had been morphed into, though she could now actually sense their presence within the metal. She had masked cries of pain as Soul Edge burned into her flesh behind shouts of ecstasy. The small, but solid presence of the holy sword allowed her to persist, even as the wretched girl had thrust her tainted claw deep into her being.

"Come, Patroklos", she breathed into the semi-darkness.

He did, but not to her.

"Pyrrha", Patroklos spoke softly as he stepped around Elysium. She lifted her hand of flesh to him without a word, and as he took it, lay down on her back, taking him down gently with her. Elysium looked up and gazed at them in utter horror.

"Wait! No! Patroklos!"

He ignored her, kneeling between his sister's thighs and taking himself in hand.

"Do not do this! Patro -!"

Elysium choked as the wretched girl stretched out her clawed limb in her direction, somehow manipulating the energies of Soul Edge from distance. Chains grew from those at her wrists, snaking down her arms before wrapping tightly around her throat. If Patroklos saw this, he took no notice, and each time Elysium tried to call out, the chains grew thicker and tighter until it took all of her effort to simply suck in air. The chains at her arms and legs jangled until they too thickened and tightened and her struggles were put to rest. It was over.

Pyrrha lifted her legs and her brother slipped her undergarments off of her, gazing into her eyes as she lowered her legs around him. She spread them wide to either side of her, knees angled up to the opposite wall. He shuffled forwards and placed himself at her lips, pushing ever so slightly against her wet entrance.

"I love you, Pyrrha", he told her.

"Patroklos", she murmured very softly, smiling warmly up at him.

He pushed gently into her and she sighed, reaching up to wrap her arms around the back of his neck, pulling his face down to hers. Buried to the hilt, he lay down atop her, cradling the back of her head in his hands as he leaned down to meet her lips. His thrusts were deep and strong and urgent. Elysium's strangled cry was drowned out thoroughly by the sibling's chorus of pleasure and the wet slap of flesh.

"Pyrrah - !"

"Oh Patroklos, _oh_ - !"

He filled her with a deep groan, and at the same time, light - blood red and crystal blue - burst forth from their eyes, meeting and clashing immediately for dominance. A cry and shout of pleasure became a roar and scream of pain and anguish. Elysium, wide-eyed and panicked, let loose a shriek of real fear as a wave of tumultuous red-blue light lanced towards her. The acrid stench of burning was thick on the air as the room was consumed by the warring essences of the two great swords.

XxXxXxX

"...Patroklos? Please...wake up!"

Pyrrha's hands shook as she cradled her brother's head in her lap. The room and everything that had been it had been scorched. Skin peeled from Pyrrha's hand of flesh as she tried to stroke the blackened brow of Patroklos, her claw was rested upon his chest, glowing with heat. At the centre of the room, the charred remains of the woman they had called 'Mother' smoked slightly, taking the full force of the chaotic mixture of energies emanating from the holy and cursed swords - but Pyrrha had paid it no mind.

She called to her brother again, even as she began to understand the truth. And as she did, she began to weep. The beginning of tears signified the act of acceptance, and as she realised and understood this, the full weight of grief suddenly fell upon her. Keening filled the silent, smoking room. Clutching her brother's body tightly to her, Pyrrha looked up the heavens and shrieked her grief, in the same breath cursing her life and the gods that had crafted her fate. Her scream shook the walls and the room shuddered in fear of her embittered rage.

In a voice made indecipherable through grief, Pyrrha promised the gods vengeance. Time and again, she had been stripped from her family and cast into the unknown. Time and again, she had been abandoned to the winds of fate. No more.

_"No more!"_


End file.
